Page 7 of My Girl

“But you’ve lived here your whole life, right?” I ask, trying another tactic.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you can help me find some locals to interview. People who were around here. Maybe even someone who knew Michael Hall personally.”

“I’ll have to introduce you to my niece.”

“She was alive then?”

He shakes his head. “But she calls herself the Pahrump Crime Expert.”

The corners of my lips raise in appreciation. “Honestly, I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“Are you going to let me take you out this time?” he asks suddenly.

Ned is in his forties, and yet even with his age, he’s not used to having casual sex. Even though this is our fourth time hooking up, he still thinks we need to date. He’s the kind of man my mother would like. An older man that can take care of me.

I’ve never been a girl you can take to family dinners though.

I force a smile. “Maybe next week,” I say. I squeeze his shoulder, and he blushes. “I gotta go.” I wink. “You already made me work overtime!”

He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Before I go inside, I turn over my shoulder. I picture a shadow behind the curtains in the Galloway House. The strange figure watching me. Waiting for me.

I shrug my shoulders, then go inside the mall.

Chapter3

Crave

The girl finds her pattern.Work at the mall. Home to her apartment. Hooking up with her conquests. Back to work again. Fifteen minute breaks to gawk at the Galloway House, fascinated by the potential truths locked inside of those dried-out walls.

I study her from one of the second-floor windows. Rae leans against the mall, texting on her phone—probably swiping right on her next valuable hookup. The desert wind snakes through her hair, and the mall hovers behind her like the bars of a cage. Her chin tilts up, and in my mind, I can see her right in front of me: those dust-brown eyes peering at this house, searching so hard that she doesn’t see me in the window looking down at her.

I don’t see her either. I see myself.

The meat bag groans under my boot. I shift my weight. The mask clings to my face, soaking up my sweat. The leather is tight around my head with sheer material across my eyes and a zipper on my mouth. My leather-gloved fingers drum the fabric of my mask as I contemplate this situation.

Rae is standing here. In my hometown. So close, I could run out of this house, tackle her, and shove her head into the pavement if I wanted.

“I lorve—” the meat bag garbles, facing the other body in the room: the soon-to-be corpse that looks entirely too similar to the meat bag. The bodies always spew nonsense at this point in the game. Sometimes, it’s entertaining.

But right now, I’m distracted. I knew Rae was moving to Pahrump. I knew she’d find the house. I didn’t think she’d start working at the goddamn mall. I wanted her close, just notthatfucking close. Not yet anyway.

“I love you,” the meat bag chokes out. I kneel down on top of its legs, just outside of view from the window. I brace the hips, preparing to insert myself. Blood and mucus crust the asshole, and the fuzzy hair surrounding it matted down with secretions. The body whimpers. It’s not about the gender or the physical pleasure of the act. It’s about knowing that I’m in control, and the meat bag’s body is mine to use. Just like I’ll use Rae one day.

The window’s shaggy, floral-printed curtains obscure my view. I imagine Rae is still there, staring at the house.

One day, she’s going to use and kill a body too. Just like this.

The body cries, and I thrust my dick inside. The warm cavity surrounds me, the friction enveloping me in the body’s pain.

I angle my head toward the window again.

“I love you,” the meat bag cries with each jolt of pain from my cock. “I swear, I’ve always loved you?—”